When Bats Laugh
by Princess Unity
Summary: I am very sorry, but in order to pay attention to other stories (with much better... everything I must add) I need to put this on hiatus. I sorry. SUMMARY: All is good and dandy until Joker injects Dick with his Duck of Doom (hence the image), and now Batman and Batgirl have the job of figuring this out... before Dick is overtaken by his own memories.
1. Chapter 1: King of Bats

**HELLO! So this is my second story yet, so please don't kill me, I'm still working on typos... and I know, slow start but I promise, it gets interesting. Also, please review if you can, I'd really like to know what people think. Thank you so much! ;D**

"King of hearts."

"Joker." Barbara set her card on top of Dick's. They were playing cards on the floor behind Bruce's desk in the Batcave while the cowl-less Dark Knight himself sat at his computer doing some brooding on the latest crime spree of Joker's. Not the card kind of Joker.

"That's not right." Dick scowled as Barbara swept up her cards.

"What?" She sighed.

"Joker stinks. Batman always beats him."

"Well," she said, still waiting for him to lay down his next card, "This is cards, War, to be exact, not reality."

"It would be funner if it was."

"Be careful what you wish for, Dick. Joker might take it into his own hands to make your dream come true." Bruce spoke up.

"And we all know what that means." There was a hint of a moan in Barbara's voice.

"Still." He finally put down a ten of diamonds.

"Well, we can pretend different. Batman will be Kings, and, naturally, I'll be the Queens."

"Hey, why can't I be the Queen?" Dick perked up to glare at her.

"Because you're not a girl!"

"This is pretend, remember? You can be a two."

"But they are the worst cards!"

"Exactly. And we can put pretty looking little Robins on the Queen card just for me."

"How about we put bats?"

"Because then Bruce would get _two_ cards!"

" _My_ cards! Not Batman's! You can be a two!"

"I'm too good for that."

"And I'm not?" She stood up and lunged at him, and in only a second they were viciously grappling with each other and flinging cards everywhere. There was a hint of good-natured annoyance in it, though.

"Why don't you take that down a floor to the training mat?" Alfred quirked an eyebrow and sidestepped them carefully, approaching his brooding employer and friend.

"I don't get it, Alfred," he said ignoring the yelps as his protégés indeed found themselves on the floor below, the hard way. "Why would Joker need the ingredients to the cure for Joker Venom and not any of the chemicals for the creation?"

"Perhaps he venomod Harley and has become quite lonely in her absence." Alfred offered, also ignoring the groans as the kids tried to realign their backs from the fall.

"I don't think so." Bruce scowled deeper, staring at his screen intently.

Alfred left the cave to go finish tidying up the house for the night, as it was already nine-oh-four.

"Maybe," Dick croaked coming back up, using the stairs instead of the faster, more difficult fireman-like pole. "He's trying to do the opposite of Joker venom. Maybe he's trying to make peaceful-frown gas instead of tortured-smile gas." He offered jokingly.

"Dick," Bruce's eyes lit up. "You're a genius!"

"I am?" Dick asked at the same time Barbara said "He is?"

"Well- not exactly," he turned his face back to his screen and began typing furiously.

"Hey-" Dick exclaimed.

"Not remotely what I meant;" Batman continued. "Joker's mad, but he's still a genius. He may want to be making a negative Joker Venom."

"It's all pretty negative to me." Barbara pouted.

"There's no telling what a negative Joker venom could do," Bruce's eyes flew across the data scrolling on his screen. "I'll try to come up with possible components and the most likely place to find them, according to some strange robberies that I didn't mention a moment ago."

"Sounds great." Barbara yawned and stretched. I have to be home by nine-fifteen every night. So, gotta' go."

"Wait, why?" Dick scowled.

"Well, it just so happens that my father wouldn't approve for me to fly around Gotham at night in tights and a cloak with a tall, dark guy and an unbearably annoying ten-year old, so I can't tell him. And since I've been getting home rather late, he's cutting my curfew short. Huh. Lucky I convinced him against six o clock. That way I couldn't even be here to beat you up instead of just imagining it." She flicked Dick the forehead.

"Hey-"

"Be quiet." Bruce stood. And turned around, his black, black hair shiny in the illuminating blue lights of the Batcave and his blue eyes on fire. "Suit up." He nodded to Dick as he pressed a button on his desk revealing two suits in air compressed display cases. "We're going to Wayne Industries. The Bio Lab."

"I really do miss the all the fun." Barbara sighed, mounting her Bat (girl) Bike. "Don't die." She saluted.

"I don't make promises." Bruce muttered darkly, taking his suit to the changing room.


	2. Chapter 2: The Ducky of Doom

**So... Chapter 2! Hope you like... it starts getting interesting now, I assure you, and here comes the notorious DUCKY OF DOOM! *Thunder* Please review, but even more, please enjoy! Thanks!**

 **Yeah, also, I forgot this in Chapter 1, but I don't own nothing. Really annoying to say it... but true.**

"I think we missed him." Robin complained over his com-link. He sat on top of an apartment building across the street from Wayne Ind., the exact spot he'd been sitting an hour ago.

"We haven't."

"How do you know?" He whined.

"Stop it. I know because I checked." a pause came. "And because I'm Batman."

"Fine." Robin grumbled, nestling further back against the satellite on top of Western Gardens Apartments.

"Robin!" Batman's voice cackled back across the com-link.

"What?" Robin jumped to his feet and was immediately involve in an involuntary stretch and yawn.

"He's coming in on my side."

"How you want to do it? Swoop in with a snooty remark? Quiet step out of the shadows? Ambush? Quietly give hints until they infer that we're there, then ambush them?"

"On my mark. Go."

Robin raised his hand in what honestly looked a bit like a "hail Hitler" salute, and swung toward the Wayne Industries Bio Lab on a fiber-enforced cable.

#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=

Joker kind of liked Wayne Ind. And sometimes he didn't. Then there were those times when the world was hidden behind a gray-gray sheen and nothing was good or bad. And sometimes it wasn't.

In a world of live until you die, everything is so relative. Just like stealing isn't bad, because it's just how get stuff to get stuff. I don't care if any of this makes sense or not, it's not meant to, and it's meant not to. Oh, and it is meant to.

Anyway, Joker waddled around, his red bulging eyes dancing hideously in the dim light. It might have taken one years to figure the plan he'd figured, but he'd thought of it in the blink of an eye. What's his plan, ask you that you ask? Well, what would be the fun if I told you? Not that it wouldn't not be fun. Double negative!

"Puddin', I think I found your green… goo." Harley called in disgust.

"MY green goo?! MINE? MINE?" Joker screeched, coming up to her.

"I thought you wanted it-" Harley yelped as Joker pounded up to her.

"Why, Haaaahr-ley, it's for Batman or one of his brats-"

"What's for me?"

Joker yelped again along with his two albino hyenas as Batman indeed did step out of the shadows. His eyes glowing in the whites of his cowl.

"Hey, Batman? Remember what you told me earlier? About being careful what I wish for?" Batman's endearingly bratty sidekick swept in to land beside his mentor. "Well, I have a new wish." He switched his gaze to Joker. "That he-" he jabbed his finger at the phsyco. "Would hand you whatever scheme he's fumbling with and go to Arkham until his hopefully close dying day."

"Hello, Birdy." Joker grumped, annoyed. "You know, when you point your finger at someone, three fingers are pointing right back at you? Harley, the green goo!"

While Robin scowled and studied his fingers, trying to find a way _not_ to point three finger at himself, Batman lunged at Joker, who, in turn, lunged at Harley who did, indeed, have a cylinder of green goo.

Unfortunately, Joker reached Harley before Batman reached him, and snatched the cylinder, dancing away and adding it the rest of his unknown mixture. "Ha! I'm done! Get ready, Bats!" Joker screeched.

Unfortunately, once again, Robin had spurred into motion by then and used his cable to sweep down above Joker and narrowly snatch the poison- whatever it was.

"Hey." Joker looked up, and threw a water balloon directly at the swinging sidekick.

But Batman was too quick for poor little ol' Joker. He tossed a deadly accurate Bat-e-rang just in time, popping the acid filled balloon before it scorched his partner's swinging back.

"Hih," Harley grunted, swinging a kick at Robin as he landed. But Robin narrowly dodged, coming up to pass the cylinder to Batman, who would've caught it if not for Joker jumping up lopsidedly in between them as if they were playing monkey-in-the-middle.

"Mwahahah!" Joker screamed, dancing away from Batman's carefully aimed swings. Joker screeched in deranged glee as Batman missed again. His opponent grimaced, and spittle flew from Joker's mouth and eyes bulged as he received a strong strike in the gut.

Both Harley and Robin stopped and winced at this, but in a second Harley was back on the child. They viciously scrambled at each other until Robin decided he'd had enough and slapped a tiny explosive to her shoulder. Harley jumped back in surprise. The red light started flashing faster and faster until Harley, in terrible understanding, ripped it off her collar, taking some material with it, and leapt away as it exploded.

They both looked up when Joker cackled from a ceiling beam. Batman was currently shooting a cable at another beam, but by the time he was up there, he was too late. Joker slipped the poison into a rubber ducky with a dangerously wicked pointed beak. They probably would not be found in Toys-R-Us.

He began jabbing at Batman with the ducky as he landed beside him, and thus their dangerously high brawl began. Robin and Harley didn't see the point in fighting one another, but the albino hyenas didn't care. They lunged at Robin while Harley yelled out comments like, "You get 'im, Puddin'!" and "I'll catch you!" when Joker wobbled.

Finally, Joker _did_ fall, and Batman peaked over the edge in earnest. He didn't like Joker, and he wouldn't miss Joker's constant trying to kill him and his protégés, but he was still a man of the law (in his own, vigilante way) and didn't wish to kill Joker unlawfully.

But Joker wasn't hurt. In fact, he was bursting with glee! For the fact is that while he was falling he simply couldn't resist letting his maddeningly creative juices flow. See, the poison was created to exact revenge on Batman, and honestly (although Joker couldn't wrap his mind around it- which is strange considering how twisted his brain already was) Batman would probably hurt more if someone was hurt because of him, Joker decided to inflict the PoTiOn on poor little Robin instead.

So as he fell he twisted a little to the right then a little to the left until he was positioned right above the child's head.

Now, Robin was quite distracted, not considering the fact Joker might try to inject _him_ , and also fending off two cackling hyenas way past his bedtime (which was eight-o-clock, because a growing boy needs sleep on occasion, so on nights he actually didn't have to fight for his life and for the lives of hundreds of other civilians he needed a bit of extra Z's) he didn't notice Joker until he was about a foot above him, which was much too late to move as Joker is actually quite heavy despite his constant prancing and as such, falls quite swiftly.

Thus, Joker grinned sickeningly and jabbed the ducky's beak into the unsuspecting child's neck and squeezing until the ducky was quite empty. Robin seized up, then fell to the floor, hardly breathing at all, and eyes wide open (Joker could tell because of the crafty way the Bat's made their masks, and how they affixed them to their faces). Joker did his little waddling dance, patting his hyenas on their heads as he and Harley escaped into the night.

Meanwhile, Batman, who, despite his non-emotional and strict exterior, did indeed care very much for his son, adopted or not, swept to the ground and, terrified for his child's life, examined Robin frantically.

His pulse was virtually non-existent, his breath unbearably soft, short, and clipped and his eyes fluttering. Batman gathered his sidekick, partner, and son in his arms and pressed a button on his belt. A moment later the Batmobile revved its engines, letting Batman know it was there.

Batman practically flew outside, carefully balancing his weight so not to jostle the small child resting in his arms. Batman tried to remain calm when his protégé's heart occasionally stopped for a second or two.

He gently set Robin into the backseat of the Batmobile after pressing a button that turned the seat into a gurney much like the ones in ambulances. His sidekick groaned as Batman inserted an IV into his arm, which was a surprisingly welcome sound as a practically dead person like Robin generally are very quiet so near to death. Batman close the door and hopped into the front seat, and pressed the gas as hard as he could, but tried to remain level and not too jerky.

Before long they drove pass Limon's Vehicle Parts and turned into a dead end between Starbucks and an office building. Like so many craftily manufactured dead-ends in Gotham, this one popped up at the press of a button, admitting its master to the long, winding road that led to the Batcave.

 **So, what do yah think? I have to admit- writing Joker is pretty fun. Hoped I didn't confuse you guys to much, I actually had to stop and think about the double negative... "wouldn't not"? Interesting... anyway, thank you guys and expect some Barbara tizzy fits about it all being Bruce's fault next time. So, yep, that's it. Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3 Code Yellow Should Be Code Red

**Okay, I'm putting these up rather fast, but to be honest I already have most of my story done. But I have reached writers block in the future, so when that does occur I might need some help, if you like the story. But for now, ta-da! Chapter 3! Please enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned any of this, it would be a really cool universe. But I don't. And it's still cool enough to write fanfic, so yay!**

"Alfred!" Batman yelled as he hopped out of the Batmobile.

A moment later the butler did indeed peak his head down the stairs to the Batcave. "Oh my," He gasped, looking at Robin's limp form. "I'll get the medical equipment."

Alfred came down and fetched the equipment, and Batman set his sidekick gently down on the bed near to his desk. Then, he carefully removed his student's mask to reveal bright blue eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Batman then removed his own mask, and, just to say, even though they weren't related by blood they did look like they could be brother's, or even father and son.

Bruce swiftly helped Alfred hook up an IV, and the other necessary things. Once that was done, they gave Dick a little defibrillator shock to get his heart beating. A second passed and the child gave a little gasp, his heartbeat steadied a bit, and his eyes fluttered closed.

Bruce and Alfred sat down with relieved sighs. They sat and watched Robin for a moment, worried that his steadying heart beat might waver, but it didn't. He was still in critical condition, though.

"If I may ask, Master Bruce," Alfred stood up. "What exactly happened?"

"I'm not exactly sure." Bruce spun his chair to face his desk and got to work. "Joker was at Wayne Bio-Labs. He used a chemical I'm not sure what was and added it to the rest of his concoction. Then, he took Robin by surprise and injected him."

Alfred "hmmed" thoughtfully. "Perhaps you should take him to a hospital?" Alfred looked warily at the struggling child.

"And risk exposure?"

"Does that really matter more than Master Dick's life?"

Bruce looked over at his adopted son. "No." he sighed. "But, I'm not ready to give up yet."

"Of course not." Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Call me if anything happens." Then the butler went up the elevator, hoping to catch some sleep.

#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#

Barbara stretched luxuriously in her bed. She had to admit, even though she hated missing out on all of the exciting almost-getting-killed stuff, she did like a full night of sleep. To her great joy it was Saturday, which meant no school.

She often felt a bit like a princess. She was an only child, and her dad had an extremely well-paying job, so although she wasn't a millionth as rich as Bruce, A.K.A her mentor, Batman, she still slept in a Queen sized canopy bed, and had pretty much everything else she wanted.

She opened her pink with sparkly butterfly drapes, and sat serenely on the window seat, holding her pink teddy-bear and looking out over Gotham. The sun was just rising and it was glinting off the lady-and-sword in the distance. Smog was annoying, but it did make for beautiful sunsets and rises.

She yawned and pulled out her computer. It was Batman issued, although no one could see the glowing purple bat and the glowing yellow edges, because she happened to like this extremely high-powered, Batwave connected, five-bar Wi-Fi available everywhere, and information-packed device, she couldn't exactly let everyone know, "hey, Batman gave me this computer that has his secret identity information on it!" so she had a pink rubber case for the computer.

"I AM BAT GIRL WHICH MEANS I ROCK." She said. The computer recognized her voice, her picture in the camera, the words she said, and the fingerprints on the touch-pad. It may seem a lot just to enter a computer, but it had secret information on it, very confidential.

She noticed a little message listed under yellow priority. She clicked on it casually and scanned it with her eyes. She had to read it about ten times before she really understood. Then she screamed.

She slapped her hand over her mouth, but then slumped in relief when she remembered her dad left early on Saturdays. She jumped to her feet, threw on a white scort with lace and a cotton-candy top with a rosette necklace with a matching bracelet and earrings. Then she combed her thick red hair that fell about two inches below her shoulders and threw it into a ponytail with a pink elastic. She slapped on some chap-stick and some pink flats with roses that were about the same color as her shirt, and was gone.

She didn't care that she wasn't wearing a mask, she pressed the hidden button on her motor-bike (not a motorcycle, one of the ones you didn't need a license for) and it shifted into her Bat-bike. She flew down the road into a dead end that admitted her to the Batroad, and in moment she was in the Batcave, which just then she noticed she'd forgotten her helmet. She didn't care.

She ran as fast as she possibly could, flying across the floor, up the pole, and right over to Dick. Batman wasn't there at that moment, so she sat down in the chair next to her friend, who, after being almost killed with several times, had become more of a brother. She noticed the seat was warm.

She looked at Robin, who was in his pajamas, which she would've laughed at if he were older, as it was he had just turned ten. Barely. His PJs were red with the Flash insignia on them. She smiled and patted him gently on the head. She still remembered two years ago when he'd been eight and the League had been wanted during an alien invasion. He practically fell in love with leather jackets the day they had been chased away and into a shop where fate was just so kind as to let the League wind up there as well. Robin had found a Superman sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, Flash themed Sketchers, and to his great joy, a leather jacket just three sizes too large. Bruce and he also had to wear shades, a sad accompaniment to being famous.

Now her (honorary) little brother was dying and her mentor hadn't even put it on red alert. She wanted to kill him. But in the meantime, she was lost in thought.

Dick was quite tall for his age, but his thin limbs were well-defined due to his night time activities. She couldn't see them now, but his alight happy blue eyes always had a shadow of maturity much too old for such a young child due to many factors, whether it be the fact that a mad, evil genius was a sworn enemy, or that people try to kill him on a day-to-day basis, but most likely the fact that as such a young child his parents were murdered in front of him.

Back to the point, his blue eyes also had a certain fulfillment of mischief in them that matched his black, black hair. So black, in fact, that when light shone on it, it did not shine brown but gray. Barbara couldn't wrap her mind around how unlikely that Dick and Bruce looked so alike.

And beside the fact that Dick was asleep, he did indeed have very pleasing features. His skin was neither porcelain nor tan, but a sort of in between tone, his eyes were an exotic almond shape, and his black hair was in a style where it was ragged but stylish.

"Don't die," she whispered. "I-I'll miss you, and, honestly, you were- are a good fighter, probably better than I'll ever be, and well, in a big-sisterly way, I-I… love you."

Dick giggled.

Barbara gasped. Then she got angry.

She rolled Dick over but he was asleep. He laughed again. Barbara furrowed her brow in confusion.

Then she knew what was going on. She leaned back, her hand on her hip, and announced coldly, "I know you're awake, Dick. And it's not funny. I thought you were going to die."

"He's not awake, Barbara. It was Joker." Barbara spun on her flats to see Bruce leaning on the doorway. His eyes had bags under them, and his features strained. His black hair had a wayward spike in the back and his perfectly ironed clothes somehow looked wrinkled.

At first Barbara was fazed by how unrefined Bruce was, but then the cold truth settled in. She spun back toward Dick, and she just about sobbed in terror.

He was laughing painfully, glistening tears streaking his face, his curled up form shaking with the pain of the forced core-shattering laughs and giggles. But the worse part was his smile. It was less a smile and more a tortured twist in his mouth. His lips were peeled back to reveal his bright white teeth. They were bleeding, his gums and his lips, stained bright red from blood. Barbara didn't know why they were bleeding.

"What happened to him?" She sobbed, sinking to the floor. Her partner's tortured laughs echoed throughout the Batcave.

"I don't know." Bruce had walked up. "I was just about to do a blood test when you got here."

"You." Barbara looked up. "It's all your fault. He may be able to beat guys up, but he's still just a child! Stop acting as if-if he can do this! You can risk your life to somehow avenge your parent's death that happened years ago! Whoever killed them is long gone! You can't change that fact! I am NOT going to let you pull Dick into this, he's not bait!"

Bruce's eyes flashed coldly, and Barbara knew she'd gone too far. "If you feel that way," Bruce's voice was calm but colder than the sea at its deepest depth. "Why don't you leave?"

Barbara stood, frozen for a moment, before rushing up the stairs into Wayne Manor. She wanted to go home, but she couldn't leave Dick.

On the top step, she bumped into Alfred, and she sank to the ground, sobbing.

"Oh, dear." Alfred was holding on extremely shiny serving dish with some nachos on it. He sat down beside her. "What's wrong, my dear?" He asked kindly, offering her a nacho.

"Oh Alfred!" She sobbed, crunching the cheese-engulfed nacho between her teeth. It had a tasty jalapeno on top. "I-I, I am just so worried about Dick, and I said some stuff to Bruce I really shouldn't have, and-and-"

"Shh, shh. Come now. What did you say?"

"I-I said that it was all his fault, and that he wasn't taking good enough care of Dick. I said that he could risk his life to avenge his parents, but he really couldn't do anything about and to leave Dick out of it and stop using him as bait…"

She drew "bait" out in a sob. Alfred scowled. "Those are indeed very inappropriate and harsh words." He said. "But, mistakes are common. I have made a quite a few myself, and Master Bruce has never failed to forgive me. I doubt it will be any different for you."

"You think so?" Her eyes glistened with tears.

Alfred smiled. "I know so." He held up a nacho and the cheese shone in the light.

 **So, that's it for now. You like Barbara's outburst? I've often thought of Alfred as the only person who can tell you how to deal with Bruce on any occasion, always counseling the kids and on extreme occasion, convincing them to disobey. So thank you, and too-doo-loo! Oh Please Review! ;D**


	4. Chapter 4: The Boy on the Trapeze

**Hello, again! I'm back! To another chapter, and PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE tell me what you think! So, thank you!**

Now, even as Narrator I can't exactly tell you how Dick felt during all of this, because he could honestly not really feel anything. But when he woke up he still wouldn't really be conscious. This is because he is stuck in his worst memories, and for a child that was quite a lot of traumatizing memories. Even for an adult. But I'll let Batman tell you all about it in a while.

Meanwhile, Bruce was staring at Dick waiting for the results of the blood test. Barbara would never understand- and thankfully, neither would Dick. Bruce had made sure of it.

His whole life he had pondered it. Everything he did was foreshadowed by what happened on that night. Every quiet moment where he didn't have a care in the world he wondered what it would be like if that man hadn't stolen his parent's lives.

Then came little eight-year old Dick. He still remembered it as if it had just happened.

It was a warm evening, and the smog was thick after the Thursday evening rush. A small, young whisper had come across the police feed.

"Help," it had whispered. "I'm not sure what's going to happen, but there are some strange guys in the circu-" then the report shut off, the word not even finished.

It had been a relatively quiet week, Joker somehow hadn't gotten out of Arkham, neither had Penguin or any of the others, and although generally he left these calls for the police, it _did_ sound interesting, and he didn't have anything else to do, not even a dinner party or anything. So although Alfred would've suggested that Bruce go to one of his old hangouts to keep the Batman/Bruce Wayne evidence on the down low, he suited up, and was off.

He arrived at the circus only a moment later to find that a man with alley-cat mismatched eyes was holding a bruised little boy who had most likely been beat with gripping pressure against the child's tiny throat. The boy's parents had guns pointed at their heads, although from afar, and the alley-cat man was salivating excessively as he spoke.

"Now, now. I know that my family means the world to me, and I'm just so sure that he means the same to you," the alley-cat man had his free hand cupped onto the back of the boy's head and in that moment pressed hard into the pressure point behind the ear. The boy screamed and tears traced down his face.

The child's father roared but didn't move because of the swift yet smart move of one of the blackmailers shifting his gun to point it at the child instead. "So why don't we make a little deal;" alley-cat continued, but he never finished.

With a few precise moves on Batman's part, the blackmailer's were gone. The Mother and Father of the boy ran to their child.

"Dick!" His mother buried her face into her child's silky black hair. So black that he'd only seen it one place before. Himself.

Clutched in his parent's embrace, Dick peeked between their arms, and mouthed one word, a very profound word. "Thankyou."

Bruce would never forget that night. You'd never understand the joy he felt seeing this boy, so like himself in more than just looks, being saved from the very thing that made Bruce. He'd never forget the little boy in the Green Lantern sketchers, jeans, and Mario Cart T.

That night, his hole had almost been filled. Saving Dick from his fate had, in a way, saved him from his. If only Tony Zucco hadn't found a way to get them anyway. Bruce's finally healing heart had been ripped again, and, for a moment, he had felt like a little boy once again to, as he watched Dick's parents plummet after saving their son by hurling him at the ladder the next night on the trapeze.

He had decided then that the boy would not grow up like him, an orphan without the murderer of his parents being justly punished. So he had. That's why Dick was living in the Wayne Manor attending Gotham Prep (the best school with his grade), and most of all, was Robin.

Now, he was feeling a little bit like a boy again, but this time in reverse. He wasn't going to lose another, this time as a father instead of a son. He just couldn't take it.

 **Now, I know, I'm really needy, but I really want reviews, if you guys can manage two seconds to say, "That's nice" or something that'll be enough for me. Also, I've always liked the idea of "Narrator" and there is going to be more of him, even though he's just a... well, narrator. (: Thanks!**

 **~Universe**


	5. Chapter 5: Voices in my Head

**Okay! I actually had to start writing this one (I finally ran out of pre-written material), so I hope you enjoy. Also, reviews make me happy. The one I got made me want to give you this. Enjoy!**

Barbara peeked nervously down the stair. Bruce was sitting by Dick, and Dick's laughs had thankfully softened to a throat-sore giggle.

Barbara came into the Batcave. She knew Bruce knew she was there. But he hadn't twitched. She looked back up to see Alfred nodding encouragingly. She took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Er, Bruce? Batman? I-I said some really bad things a moment ago I shouldn't have, and, well, I'm not sure how to say it, but I'm really, really sorry."

Bruce took a deep breath and stood up. "Come," he said, "Let's see the results." He said referring to the blood test.

"That's his way of saying he forgives you," Alfred whispered, passing her with the nachos.

Barbara smiled wanly and joined Bruce, who was indeed staring intently at the results.

"Amazing." He said a moment later. "I'm not sure what it's done to him, but it is amazing. The way his blood stream cells have been morphed temporarily," he went back to searching the data.

"You mean it'll wear off?" a tiny spark of hope burst in her.

"Temporary as it has a job to do. And when it's done, it will stop. And so will he."

She sucked in a breath and bit back a tear. "Oh."

"But I'll need to do further testing."

"Why not just ask Joker?"

"Excuse me?" Bruce looked at her, surprised.

"Well, Joker made the poison, so he'll know what it does."

"You have a point." Bruce looked up, and pulled on his mask. "Alfred, you take care of Dick. Barbara,"

"I got it." She said and hit the button that opened her costume's vacuum-sealed pod. She walked over to grab it.

"No, you're staying here." Bruce jumped into the Batmobile.

"But I want to come!" But the last three words were drowned out by the revving and departing of the Batmobile.

"I guess you're not invited." Alfred wiped blood from Dick's face, who had been giggling so long and hard that he had begun coughing, rather than giggling, up blood. "Nacho?"

Barbara sighed, sat heavily in the seat next to Dick, and snatched the cheese-drizzled with tomato and bean covered nacho. And so the waiting begun.

Joker, meanwhile, was partying.

He had done it. He had finally done it. Two birds with one stone, they call it. But in his case, _three_ bat-problems with one venom. Yipee!

So he had (as he was feeling quite generous) treated Harley to a date on the town. They were currently casually painting the mayor's face as he was tied to a chair, and although I know, as Narrator, I generally shouldn't make personal comments, but the Joker is really truly wretched while Harley is actually quite good at makeup.

Anyway-

" _Oh, it's you again."_

Excuse me?

" _What do think? Who are you and why do you keep chit-chatting?"_

Whatever do you mean? And how do you hear me? I am the Narrator!

 _"Narrator, uh? Who the heck are you? I've heard of Flash, and Superman, and Martian Manhunter, and, well, a lot of weirdos but never of_ Narrator _."_

Who am I talking to? I am not supposed to be part of the story, I simply observe and relate, dear readers, don't ruin my reputation! After this Teller might be better than me…

 _"Who in Batman's cape is that? You know you really_ are _getting on my nerves. You've been chit-chatting about what I'm doing and all that since I first tried to venom all of Gotham –the first time!"_

Who are you?

 _"Joker! Mwa-ha-ha-ha! Tremble at my madness!"_

Oh, now I understand. As you know thanks to insightful comments on different stories and superheroes, everyone has a weakness. And mine is a very strange one indeed. You know how one of the signs of being mad is hearing voices in your head? Well, mad people can hear me when, on extreme occasion, I break the rules of being Narrator and they are in my story.

 _"Then don't break the rules! It gets annoying. I am trying to enjoy mauling the mayor with Harley!"_

Of course I will. I'll zip my lips.

 _"Unless, of course, you can tell me Batman's secret identity or some other confidential information-"_

Anyway, back to my story, and sorry about that-

" _I can still hear you!"_

Okay! Alright, so Joker was currently painting his half of the mayor's face like a modern art canvas and Harley was making the mayor look like a girl on her side.

"Hmm…" Joker pursed his lips and looked like quite an artist in his smock and beret.

"Oh, Puddin'… it looks… nice? Maybe we could do some graffiti instead.""

Joker looked at her, scowling deeply. "Okay." His frown turned _way_ upside down.

"Ooh, yes!" she let out a demented squeal. "Where should we go?"

"Hmm…" Joker tapped his chin. "I know! Let's get inspiration by driving around town!"

So they jumped into the ice-cream truck that served as a Joker-mobile, and drove out and about.

It took quite a while, but finally Joker yelped in excitement. "I have it!" he announced. He pointed at the Gotham City Hall, a large white building that looked quite a bit like a palace.

"Oh, Puddin', it's perfect! It's white like a canvas. How about we beautify Gotham?"

"Hee hee!" screeched Joker. So with spray bottles and paint brushes they started at the top of the dome. Joker immediately began spray-painting a pig with wings that had been venomised. Harley enjoyed painting a rose the size of a dump truck. She had only painted three petals when Bats appeared.

"Joker!" Batman called.

"HUH?" Joker frowned.

"BATMAN!" Yipped Harley. "Puddin', we gotta' get out of here!"

Joker frowned. "I think we should see what the big bad Bat wants." He turned and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Yyyeeesss?!"

"What. Was. It?" Batman stood, shroud in shadow, a silhouette against the Gotham skyline.

"Oooh, Batsy! What was what?" Joker grinned maddeningly at Batman.

"Robin."

"Oooooh! That! Well, of course, that was my new and improved Joker venom!"

Let's just say, the only reason Joker wasn't dead yet was Daddybats needed to find out what it was.

"What is it doing to him?"

"Well, you see, Batboy, I initially created it to _kill you._ But then I noticed something and realized that it would affect children differently. Hee, hee…" Joker broke out cackling.

"What is it?"

"Well, you'll just have to wait and see!" Joker cackled, snatching Harley's wrist and falling into the alley, and to the sewers where the Bat could not follow.

 **So, there you go! There, thankfully, will be more. Did you guys like Narrator? He's a cool character I made up, just the person who tells all the stories on all the different worlds. Also, please review (I know, I am a sucker for those), and thanks a ton! Especially to reviewers (they make me write more, hee, hee)**

 **~Universe (;**


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